When he had spoken, his voice and what he
had to say had commanded respect. And then there had emanated
from him that peculiar physical charm which gives such pleasing
and distinguished personality to a very few people in this world.
This gift too had descended to Linda. She could sit and look
straight at you with her narrow, interested eyes, smile faintly,
and make you realize what she thought and felt without opening
her lips. John did not feel very well acquainted with the girl
who had dominated the recent dinner party, but he did see that
she was attractive, that both Peter Morrison and Henry Anderson
had been greatly amused and very much entertained by her. He had
found her so interesting himself that he had paid slight
attention to Eileen's pouting.
Tonight he was forced to study Eileen, for the sake of his own
comfort to try to conciliate her. He was uncomfortable because
he was unable to conduct himself as Eileen wished him to, without
a small sickening disgust creeping into his soul. Before the
evening was over he became exasperated, and ended by asking
flatly: "Eileen, what in the dickens is the matter with you?"
It was a new tone and a new question on nerves tensely strung.
"If you weren't blind you'd know without asking," retorted Eileen
hotly.
"Then I am 'blind,' for I haven't the slightest notion. What
have I done?"
"Isn't it just barely possible," asked Eileen, "that there might
be other people who would annoy and exasperate me? I have not
hinted that you have done anything, although I don't know that
it's customary for a man calling on his betrothed to stop first
for a visit with her sister.
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